So like Bert the turtle, remember to ‘Duck and Cover!’
Your little desk will prevent you from being incinerated!
THIS WAS A BOTENDADDY 1951 PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT!
“This is “an” horrific run.”
Shroake the Stalker 👀 🏃♀️.
“No you vapid Twaite! It’s “a” horrific run. If horrific is Pronounced “Whore-R.I.F.-ick!” The “n” is not needed.”
”But if it’s Pronounced “Oar-if-hick” you must use the “an” You diaperous, yummy, shit-covered sockdologizing old bandicoot!”
We ran through the ancient urban park. The Stalker 👀 wore terrycloth minishorts. Her ass was so close to my face that I could almost taste it 😋.
”Do you like what you doth see, you shitey old dope? Do ya want dis bodee!!”
We ran exactly 3.11 miles. My splits were atrocious.
”I have now lost 14.8 pounds. 13.8 pounds from my first major milestone. Once I reach that, I shall run twice a week. CAN YOU DIG IT!”
Shroake I, channeling Cyrus from “The Warriors”
We walked the next 1.54 miles at a shitty pace.
”Exercise does this:
1. Good for the cardiovascular system.
2. Weights i.e., anaerobic exercise burns fat.
3. Light exercise, walking roughly 30 minutes every day burns about 1,200 calories a week.
4. Exercise activates the metabolism and raises your BMR.
5. Exercise alone is 100% useless for losing weight. It is only useful if you are eating within a few hundred calories of your BMR (BMR is Basal Metabolic Rate – the calories you burn at your age and weight by normal daily activity) I said with parentheses.
6. NEVER count exercise calories against your daily calories from food. It is a fool’s errand.”
CAVEAT: Never undertake any exercise or diet program without the strict advice of an extreme medical professional. I am not your f&%$%#g Daddy!
“Your Running 🏃 is vulgar, Your undulating sexual green-glowing flab is erotically del.ic.io.us 😋! F@&$ me you misshapen freak!”
So my dear readers (Botendaddy, in tie and tails), bows 🙇 low with a sweep 🧹 of his top hat 🎩, breaks fourth wall of Weimar Dinner 🥘 Theatre 🎭 and addresses audience.
”Yes my dear readers, I thusly gefyckked (Pronounced Guh-Fighe-Keh-Duh) her next to the ancient lake. Her Shroakes of ecstasy echoed across the Pleistocene valley.”
March, 2010. Waning days of the Iraq 🇮🇶 War. U.S. Air Force Airfield somewhere South of Nassiriyyah. 69th Tactical Fighter Wing “The Flying Dirty Sanchez.”
A lone airman walks through a glowing sandstorm to a terminal building near the airfield. He and sees one other airman in the building.
”Marijuana, do you smoke it n@&$&&? This is not a goddamned after-school special, you will smoke my mother-f@&$&g weed!”
The two airmen go out into the swirling golden gloaming and they inhale the satanic herb 🌿.
”I can’t do this forever Meshach. Ten years of my life. Some college. I’ve been in since Y2K it’s 20 fucking 10 and I’m still wearing blue.”
”Well Airman Pete, you need a job. But you’ll miss the airfield man. The planes ✈️ it’s in our blood, n@&$&, you know what I’m saying?”
”Meshach, my man, my brother he’s like rich. He owns this municipal airport in upstate New York. They just went public and got a huge set of grants to re-open the old runways. He wants me to run terminal Ops. You’re from Buffalo 🐃 I’m from Scoharie. We can join the Air Guard and we can help build the airport.”
2019 Grand opening of Venice International Airport. Camera 🎥 pans the airfield and focuses on a small maintenance shed. Two figures are Roaking some kind of hand-rolled ‘cabbage’.
”N@&$&! You been smokin’ that dank out my trill-azz little n@&$$! This is skunk weed, man! That ain’t no jive, Blay. Where you get this lame-assed herb 🌿 Pete?”
”That’s good shit! You don’t know the value! Let’s get down to the airside information ℹ️ desk. Our ladies are out for the evening shift. Figured we’d hang out and guide the weary travelers 🧳. My little girls’ coming by. She just started at Syracuse. She’s 17 now.”
”She’s a good girl Pete, man, but you keep her away from those god-dawk pilots. I known Sissy since she was a baby 👶 I will whip that pilot ass. Those sexy white pilots… aah the taste of white pilot man-flesh… yes!!”
”Here’s our first customer! Yes ma’am how may I help you?”
”What door is Commercial pickup?”
”Door 7 ma’am I’ll walk you down..”
SOON ON QUETFLIX! Starring everyone you’ve never heard of. Produced by Rachel Boingboomtschak of Studio City’s “Were not too Jewish Productions” series from showrunner Shadrack Meshach Abendengo Schwartz.
Karl-Heinz Schnellebakker Interview with Rachel Boingboomtschak: Glendale California for Söest Television 📺
“Rachel, you have a large tasty 😋 voluptuous behind. I don’t like girls because they are icky, but you are buxom and yummy 😋 like a Walkyrie (Pronounced WaLuigi) tell me about seines new show: “Terminal Ops”
”Karl, we feel that this is a show about regular people doing regular things. The main characters, Pete and Meshach are National Guard Airmen Who run terminal Ops for a new Major airport. Meshach is a new higher level of gay 🌈 and he loves all-male flight ✈️ crews. Pete is a widower with a college age daughter. He is in love 😍 with the lady who runs terminal Ops for her dad’s Private Lear Jet service at the same airport “Trillion Air” but she barely knows he exists.”
”Ganz ausgezeichnet! So the main character loves the girl who doesn’t acknowledge him. The best friend is gay (yummy) and the older brother is super rich.”
We ran down by the river again. It was the Punker Model Writer Chick 🐣.
”What evil 🦹♀️ Force is keeping you alive? You look 👀 clinically dead. You’ve lost 9.4 pounds and you run 🏃 like a shit-covered 💩 climate-change walrus falling off a cliff.”
Shroake the PMWC
“Listen. I have to lose 19 pounds just to reach BMI Overweight. I can barely run, but at least i can run. Even back at BMI Overweight max value last June, my Running was bad, but about 9 minutes faster for a 5k time. I am only running once a week until I lose the next 19.”
”Fascinating. Guess what’s really fascinating? A disgusting old drooling 🤤 sweating 😅 slob undulating his fat dead 💀 hideous body on a hot 23 year old broad until you impregnate her with your grotesque yellowed old Man spermatozoon until her eggs are fertilized and she becomes mistress and billionairess of House Utonic Manor. That’s fascinating…”
We ran out to the Island 🌴 I suffered through 3.26 miles. We walked the last mile back to the Duesenberg. Igor was driving. Of course I f@&$&d the PMWC to classical music 🎼 muffle her Shroakes of Joy.
“Let’s go to the University, Yon sexual Botendaddy, I am working on a mystery. Now dot dot dot Nowhere on the Internet is this ever discussed. Search on the ‘Outernet’ for “Sev’s a Load” and you come up empty. “No Toad Sexing” is equally missing.”
We met a weird (redundant) German reporter. We shook hands, roaked malu Cigaretu and he started his broadcast. 📻
“Gibt es hier Karl Heinz Schnellebakker für Söest Television 📺 (Pronounced Tay-laah-vee-zee-yoane)
This mystery, these ancient markings, what did they mean and who wrote them? Were they the work of one lone testosterone-man-phallus? Could it have been a crazed estrogen-soaked vagina-woman?
Wilkommen alles to another episode of “Botendaddy Presents””
”Hi this is the campus of Marnegie-Cellon University. Tonight we explore the mystery of the ancient messages. Who wrote them? What did they mean? I am the Botendaddy and we first go to Hammerschlag Hall to meet the longest tenured Professor, Häär Klaus von Fürchtbäreswetterheute.“
Botendaddy (entering office). Elderly Professor 👨🏫 offers Kaffee ☕️.
Professor: Bist Du denn zür berühmtischer Häär Doktor Boten-päpä?
The aged Professor pours the Kaffee into a tiny Königsberger Kaffee Tasse ☕️ .
Professor: I know why you have come. You are here about my past. It was only a matter of time. I am now 95 years old. I was a member of the Odessa! I admit it! I loved him! I loved him! When he spoke, we were strong again! We had been crushed by the Bolsheviks and the Banker Kapitalists! Then he came and raised us up! He gave us hope to achieve our ambitions. I will not deny it! We loved him! Ztieg… Heil! Ztieg… Heil!”
I could hear the barking of German Shepherds, unintelligible Teutonic gibberish over a loudspeaker 📢 the sounds of a million marching boots, the whine of a Stuka dive bomber and the mystical Valkyrie-like Shrieking of the possessed satanic Führer, all in a grainy black and white newsreel montage.
Botendaddy: “Actually, I’m just here about the graffiti…”
Professor: “Oh I’m sorry 😐 I thought you were someone else. Is there film 🎞 in that Kamera?und who is dat low-Deutsche Hollander broad?”
Botendaddy: “Sev’s a Load. No one will admit it. There is no record of it. It’s like it has been wiped clean from the universe.”
The following is a translation from French and Slowwaak of documents found in a box that fell behind a bookshelf at the Queen’s Imperial Second Federal Court of the Assizes, Rue Des Voltigeurs, Ottawa, Dominion of Canada 🇨🇦 so discovered on the 6 April 1966, by the janitor Monsieur Claude Sevigny 🇨🇦.
Queen’s Imperial Solicitor Col. Jean-Claude deBlois, Canadian Army: “Häär Monsieur Voraceka, are you familiar with the defendant Häär Oberstürmführer Gerhard von Niedersachsen, Gauleiter und Oberstürmführer Distrikt Snieczka Fascist puppet government of Northern Slowwakien.”
Voraceka: “It is he, Sir, no other.”
deBlois: “Were you present on the morning of July 6, 1943 at Lesnica?”
Voraceka: “I was, Monsieur Le Colonel.”
deBlois: “Why we’re you there?”
Voraceka: “I was a young Doctor in the Slowwakien Army prior to the advent of the National Socialist Anschlüsse. I was ordered by the SS Death 💀 Brigade Kommandant to the Park at the base of the mountain. I was sentenced to death by a Fascist tribunal.”
Voraceka: “I was a member of a Catholic pacifist society of St. Isidore Jesse we, I made arrangements in Bratislava to hide Zscewische and Cigani children with Catholic families in the mountains.”
deBlois: “En Francais?”
Voraceka: “Apologies Meng Häär, I mean Monsieur Le Colonel. Jews and Gypsy children. First the Jews were martyred. They made the gypsies dig ditches first then the gypsies were martyred. Then the Slowwakien priests and nuns of St. Isidore, they died singing the hymn of St. Isidore, hand in hand. Are you Roman Catholic, Monsieur Le Colonel?”
deBlois: “I can have no biases due to my position with the Crown and the Imperial Army, Häär Doktor.“
Voraceka: “ I knew I was dead. I selfishly began to pray to the Christu, Slava Isuzu Christu that I survive for a higher purpose, when it happened. The Lancashires came. I never heard them until the bombs dropped. They mistook the park entrance for the Liseca factories 🏭. I escaped. I ran into the mountains. I ran for three day’s when I met Komraide Kommisar Slegr, leader of the Supreme Sowiejt Sociaisticzeski Slowwakien Resitance Red Revolutionary Anti-Fascist People’s Front Brigade. I told him my story. I was taken on as Physician for the Brigade.”
deBlois: “When did you see Niedersachsen again?”
Voraceka: “Christmas day 1948 in Vancouver in Stanley Park. I recognized him immediately.”
deBlois: “Are you certain this is he?”
Voraceka: “He handed me a shovel to dig my own grave. He is the child-killer of Liseca. He killed the righteous right in front of me. He is a butcher. May he never know the love of Christu. May he not be spared eternal fire 🔥. We all have choices. We all know right from wrong. He is the devil.”
deBlois: “Were you involved in direct action with the Front?”
Voraceka: “I was, your honor. They were Kommunistivwe butchers in their own right, Cher Monsieur Le Colonel. On 3 November 1944 we blew up a train trestle near Malkov, Slowwakien. We rescued many Zschewische women who were being taken west to be eliminated by the fascist entity.”
deBlois: “Was one of these women Sarai Pareczenethy?”
Voraceka: “She was, Monsieur Le Colonel, along with Frä Rösczelle Pareczenethy. I was elated. Yet saddened when I heard that Häär Doktor Doktor Pareczenethy had been recently liquidated by the National Socialist Construct. We took them to Bratislava, then to Praha, then to Schweiz, then to Les Vosges, where we turned them over to The Imperial Canadian Army Forces. I was arrested and questioned. I was released in January 1946 at Varennes, when I came to Vancouver as a refugee.”
deBlois: “Did Niedersachsen personally give orders to execute innocent civilians in your presence at the time and date heretofore stated?”
Voraceka: “He So did, Monsieur Le Colonel.”
deBlois: “Did Häär Niedersachsen personally execute anyone in your presence on July 6th, 1943 at the entrance to Liseca Park?”
Voraceka: “He did so within ten meters of me, Monsieur Le Colonel. I am a witness. I believe he thought he was going to get away with it to escape the Justice of Christu and of man. I am a Slovak. I was born a Slovak and I will die a Slovak. Sloboda! Fascists, Kommunistivwe are all murderers in the name of Philosophy. Pareczenethy… only he spoke the truth. I look at all the people here today and though you are strangers to me, I tell you that I was there and that I saw it. It is not a fabrication and my memory is clear. I was spattered with the blood of the children. The world has to know what happens when no one is looking. Fate brought us to Stanley Park that day. Please I beg the tribunal to do justice.”
deBlois: « Merci, pour votre témoignage Monsieur Doctor 🥼 vous êtes déchargé. »
CONCLUSION DE TÉMOIGNAGES DE DOCTOR VORACEKA.
AUDIENCE DU TRIBUNAL JURIDIQUE DE L’ARMEE CANADIENNE IMPÉRIALE DU KOMMANDANT NIEDERSACHSEN LE 1er AOÛT 1950
deBlois: “It is hereby ordered by this tribunal of legal military representatives of the Kingdom of Great Britain 🇬🇧, The Dominion of Canada 🇨🇦 and the Protectorate of Jamaica 🇯🇲 that for the crimes of illegal entry to the Dominion, genocide and infanticide that you, Häär Wilhelm Gerharde von Niedersachsen, so be taken to the Imperial prison at Rouyn-Nournda and thereso at a time and date set by this Imperial Tribunal, that you be hanged by the neck until dead, dead, dead.”
Two figures walk arm-in-arm to the train station 🚉.
Sarai Pareczenethy (to Voraceka): “I don’t know if I ever thanked you for saving our lives. Although my father believed that life and death are irrelevant, I appreciate your convictions in your beliefs, Pana Doktor.”
Voraceka: “I hope to see you at the University this fall. I suppose we will all be on the train 🚞 to Vancouver. It is a good train 🚂.”
“By crackulous! You young punks listen up good! You don’t know nothin’ by crackie (Pronounced cray-kye!) . Filthy young hippies! (Pronounced Hip-eyes). With your dirty minds! You young people are too sexy! Now listen up! It was the great winter ❄️ of ‘46 by Crackamundo!”
The old man 👴 loaned (past sideways participle of lean) back in his rocking chair.
“92 inches of Schnee, 52 degrees below zero in Philadelphia. My pap (Pronounced pap-wise papification) purchased me a brand spankin’ new 1946 Studebaker Commander. Sure was a fine lookin’ Auto-Mobile by crack-wise crackification! I drove her all the way down to the University of Miami with nary a scratch and only one dangling modifier.”
”I remember that drive well! I stopped at every Barbeque joint, reeferstick hut and whorehouse from Philly to Tampa. I found me the dirtiest, smelliest, fattest, oldest, ugliest, yummiest whores. Ah the smell of it, by Kraken!”
”Well I found me a nice apartment rented to me by one of them Cuban broads. There was a 20 space covered garage (Pronounced gah-rhaaaaj) I got space number 20 at the far end. It was January 20 of 19 aught 47. That night I heard on my radio 📻 that a huge Hurricane was a comin’ I remember me a few back in my Army Air Corps Training back in 19 aught 42. By Quraquie!”
”Well I was at class when the storm hit. They warned people to get their cars out of the garage but I plum forgot. When I got back to my apartment the entire garage was collapsed and all the cars 🚗 destroyed excepting for slot number 20. Not a scratch on my Studebaker. Them bastards never forgave me. Oh well 😔 time to change my diaperous bowel genie 🧞♂️!”
The is England 🏴 Radio 📻 Station 🚉 37 Jabbachetty Chomondoley Mutthapan for the English Extreme Broadcasting Network reporting from Edinburgh (Pronounced Ed-dinna’-Burraugh), sit-down strikes are beginning all across Europa and North Africa in order to follow the ‘Way of Pareczenethy.
Mindless nattering about obtuse and incomprehensible Philosophical topics, reading of boring tomes and quaffing of ale has begun here in earnest. Even the local football (Pronounce foooooot-bwhole) team ARE (plural non-American usage) joining in the team have begun doing nothing in concert with the other disaffected banal nihilists.
Reports are coming in from Marrakesh, Salonika, Istanbul and Wroclaw of similar Pareczenethy sit-ins.
We are now to interview a so-called man on the street (Pronounced Man-jack or rather man-phallus or man-phalloid) he is of Polish origin and utterly Slavic (Pronounced Slave-fish) in his fatalistic, depressing, nihilistic Weltuunschaaungen.
Disaffected Euro-Slaw: “Well we have began gathering here with the goal of having no goal and of doing nothing. We must reject Pareczenethy in order to fully accept Pareczenethy. Society requires us to do things, to say things to follow rules. Duties are false social constructs based on illogical abstract principals. We must reject rules as duties alone create rules, per C.D. Broad.”
EEBC: “So the goal is nothing. Your statement is nothing and you hope to achieve nothing.”
DES: “Presogitively… Da!”
EEBC: “Here is another person of the icky female persuasion.What is your name, Miss?”
DES: “I am Shanthi McTaggerty. I reject nothing and I accept nothing. I am here out of apathy. I hope to achieve nothing.”
EEBC:”More reports are pouring in from Sevastopol, Helsinki, Diekirch, Paris, Brandenburg, Tunis, Delhi, Vientienne, Adelaide and the Palatinate. Apparently, people of all ages are gathering in public parks in front of statues of artists, authors and poets. They are doing nothing productive. These non-violent gatherings are stunningly dull. Here we ask Professor Andrew MacDougall from the Philosophy department. What is the meaning of Pareczenethy?”
MacDougall: “Nihilism from the Latin nihil, meaning ‘nothing’ is the philosophical viewpoint that suggests the denial or lack of belief towards the reputedly meaningful aspects of life. Most commonly, nihilism is presented in the form of existential nihilism, which argues that life is without objective meaning, purpose, or intrinsic value.
Moral nihilists assert that there is no inherent morality, and that accepted moral values are abstractly contrived. Nihilism may also take epistemological, ontological, or metaphysical forms, meaning respectively that, in some aspect, knowledge is not possible, or reality does not actually exist.
The term is sometimes used in association with Anomie to explain the general mood of despair at a perceived pointlessness of existence that one may develop upon realizing there are no necessary norms, rules, or laws.”
EEBC: “That is so succinctly stated as if it were stolen word for word from the Wikipedia article on Nihilism.
McDougall: “Presogitively, which means precisely plus prerogative as in ‘rogatory’ plus positively. It is a fake word derived from Botendaddy’s “Lectures on Modern Nihilistic Existentialism in Silesia” given at the Kraków Konferenz on Existential Philosophy in 1997, sponsored by “Olive Oylz Chicken Restaurants.”
EEBC: “Now back to you at our studio in Hammersmith.”
Botendaddy bows low to the audience. He is dressed in Weimar tie and tails with top hat 🎩 and white gloves.
“As the Pareczenethy movement sweeps Europa (Pronounced eye-Rho-pah) we must acknowledge the man behind the extreme apathetic 😐 social fervor whose spirit now unites revolutionary Existential Nihilism from Galway to Moscow. “
“Stupidity is a willful act. You must put in a concerted effort to be stupid. You must battle against the three-headed Cerberus of evolution, reason and civilization. It is incumbent upon you to work diligently to be stupid. If you are stupid… Bravo! Please be proud of the effort you have put in to succeed so brilliantly at being stupid!”
Takes off coat. Takes a flask from his vest and takes a swig of brandy. Waves flask about dramatically.
“You can murder a man. You can burn his books. You can hide knowledge. No matter what depredations to which we are subjected, Meineng Lieberes Geehrterer Hääreng, as long as we think 🤔 in the words of Monsieur R. Descartes, then we are. We “exist as” which is the Existential essence of “being” as a construct. Duties create rules, per C.D. Broad, hence rules are irrelevant.”
Pareczenethy Lights his pipe.
“We have lost a great man in Masaryk. But Masaryk can never die as long as we read his words. It is incumbent upon us to know, to remember and to recite… I… am Pareczenethy!”
ManhattanKansas, August21, 1973.
The tall elegant lady had a pile of books in front of her in various states of disarray. She camped comfortably in the old wooden steakhouse every day with her sandwich 🥪 and her coffee ☕️. She twirled her black hair. She had bright green eyes.
The young man watched her. He knew her from the University. She had the carrel right next to him for almost a year, but they had never spoken. They were rarely at the carrels at the same time.
He would bring her office supplies, notebooks, pens, pencils and she would leave him exquisite continental pastries as a thank you or occasionally some fine Italian coffee beans with little notes in elaborate artistic calligraphic hand-writing.
She was breathtakingly beautiful for a woman of any age, but she had no ambience of pride like many attractive women do.
She noticed him when he first arrived at the University. Just another American PhD student. She came in one day to find an elaborate coffee setup with an electric percolator, filters, grinder, beans, sugar and coffee and cans of some sort of room-temperature milk. And there he was in the steakhouse.
“You stare at me every day. You can sit with me if you like.”
She said, without looking up.
”I’m Bill Thompson.”
”I know who you are Bill Thompson.”
She had a very thick accent.
”I wanted to ask you a question, two questions…”
”May I take you to dinner some time? Zdenka…”
She took off her glasses and she stared at him.
”That would be OK. I can’t afford much though.”
”I will pay. In America, the man always pays.”
”You had another question.”
”Did you know Pareczenethy?”
”I did. I was with him in the camp, we spoke often and I saw him die. We survived because of Pareczenethy. He was like an Angel to us. He had no fear. His stoicism mocked them. His focus on irrelevance was our salvation.”
”You didn’t ask how old I am?”
”Why is that important? Are you interested in me or Pareczenethy?”
”I am interested in the woman who knew Pareczenethy. I am 29.”
He leaned in too close and he inhaled her and she sensed it and felt his desires and intentions. She leaned in close touching her cheek to his. She held there too long and then he knew.
”You want to take me, don’t you. You’ve been watching me all year. Just admit it.”
”Well, I don’t think that…”
”Just say it or leave.”
”I want you desperately. I want to make love to you as long and as often as I can. I am fascinated with you. You are beautiful and mysterious. I’ve been madly in love with you since last September when I saw you at the graduate orientation dinner.”
”It’s been twenty years since anyone touched me. Let’s go to dinner then and then after… let’s go to your apartment and then you do what you want to me any way you want as long as you want. If you want to be in love with me then that’s fine as well.”
”Wow. You’re very direct.”
”You think I’m forward? No one’s asked me out as long as I can remember. Obviously, you are worth my time if you find me so fascinating. I could care less if you are 29 or 79. Life is too short and unpredictable to hesitate during the rare moments people are of one mind.”
”You aren’t kidding, are you?”
”I am not. I’ve been wondering about you as long as you’ve been wondering about me. I’ve never figured out American customs, so I don’t know…”
”I like Barbeque. Because why not? It’s very American. I feel awkward you want to pay for me for everything.”
”Money is not an issue for me. I come from an old New England Family, Salem, Massachusetts. I’m embarrassed to say that we are very wealthy. I never asked, but where are you from, Zdenka?”
”I am from Central Prague. I don’t know if I will ever go back. My family is gone. Everyone. My friends, if I ever had any, are likely gone. I am to be feeling a little bit like a person from outer space, like Klaatu.”
”You really are beautiful. I’ve never seen you dressed up before.”
”You are a strange young man. There are women your age, you know. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Who am I to make judgments for you?”
”You are a strange woman yourself. That’s what i like about you.”
”I want to see the West. I haven’t left this area since I got here. I would like to see Denver and Cheyenne. Maybe California. I don’t have money to travel.”
”You come with me. I will take you to amazing places, Yosemite, Salt Lake City, Seattle, San Francisco – Muir Beach…”
”I’ll come with you. You want me to travel with you at your expense and see America? That makes you happy? That would make me happy, why lie? In answer to your question, I was a teenage model. By age 14, I had been in shows in Rome, Paris, Vienna. Then I was deported, debased and de-humanized. All of my pride was gone. For all of us, we were hollow, living dead, until we met Pareczenethy.”
”Honest answer, Young Bill? Better than I’ve felt in over 30 years, if you are seeking the truth. Better than I’ve to have felt since before you were born. I love what you just did to me. I may already be in love with you. I’m not ashamed to say so. Was it worth it to you to have me?”
”Zdenka, everything about you is worth it to me.”
”Then you are a very strange person.”
”I want to know all about you.”
”You do not. It is a very ugly and sad story and you will not look at me the same way.”
She showed her forearm to Bill.
”Jesus Christ, I didn’t know. Are you Jewish?”
He started to tear up.
”No I am Roman Catholic. Do you think that mattered? I’ve been thrice an enemy of the state for three different states. Lost and stolen years. But I am alive. I can’t live in the past. I was enjoying the moment and I don’t want to say more. Not now. Just keep doing what you please to me. I like that you are so enthralled with me. It’s an odd feeling.”
”You’re so much more than you say you are. You are someone important. Someone amazing.”
”Can I please just be the lady you are f@&$ing in a hotel in Junction City, Kansas? It makes me feel American. Make love to me like I’m your wife and you are desperately trying to get me pregnant. That’s what I want. Take me like you’ll die if you don’t impregnate me. I’m not asking much. F@&k me like we’re the last two people on earth and we have to reproduce.”
Sister Sliwa Tomislaw Nagy is in the courtyard. It is violent subzero weather in blinding snow ❄️ with slashing wind 💨 Sister Nagy is repairing a Sowiejt Tank. She is working silently with another woman.
The smell of seawater wafted over the frozen camp. Everything was in shades of grey and white.
“I was there.”
She whispered directly into the sister’s ear 👂.
”I was in the camp with Pareczenethy.”
The sister continued working without making eye contact.
”You don’t understand… I was there.”
”It will be death 💀 if we speak his name.”
”Life is without objective value, purpose or meaning. This Gulag is Pareczenethy’s dream. It is truth that men are debase animals. Civilization is a lie. Whether we are in beautiful Praha or here, is irrelevant. Their search for objective truth in a meaningless existence renders them a pathetic mockery. They have no power over us unless we seek a higher meaning.”
”Yes my dear, but I am married to the truth, to seek the way. How can we say life has no meaning when we are sentient beings given the power to think and to live by God? Why did Pareczenethy share his meager (Pronounced Mah-haar) rations with the Jesuits? Was it not out of love? Was it not for the goal of preserving life?”
”Yes, sister, from an existential Weltunschauung we only exist as we are perceived by others. Pareczenethy may have wanted to do objective good in the face of depraved evil. First it was the ‘National Socialist Entity’ Kamps, now it’s the Gulag. I’ve lost count of the rapes. It’s meaningless to me. Humans are debased animals. There is a false thin veneer of civilization and that is all. That’s why I loved Pareczenethy. He saw the world as it was, you choose to see it how it is supposed to be. Yet we are both here.”
”I fear two things, Czech girl: First, That I shall never return to see the inside of a church and Second, that the world will never hear of Pareczenethy. Look at Sharapov. She died here and she will be forgotten if we die too.”
”Also Mussigorskaya. She was only 18. Now she is dead. Someone loved her once. I am 28, but I saw my face in a piece of broken glass. I look 70. I am already dead. No one ever loved me and no one ever will and it doesn’t matter.”
”You are Zdenka from block XIII. I remember you. You were the Czech girl. You were beautiful.”
”I will do something if I get out of here, sister. It won’t be meaningful. I just need to prove a point. If I’m going to die anyway, I’m going to do something. If I live I want to study Philosophy at a great University in the West. Maybe in America.”
”Shut up you two filthy Simkas! Czech Whores! Shut your filthy mouths 👄! I don’t want to be here any more that you dirty shitty crones do.”
Shroake the Guard, Dmitri.
Praha21. srpna, poledne1968. Svoboda
“We will all die here.”
Shroake Jan Klima.
”Good! I hope I do! Then we can all be equal and die together.”
Shroake a woman of about 40.
The Quarter was on fire. The woman climbed a Sowiejt imperialist egoist tank. She flung a Molotov cocktail into the cupola setting it on fire 🔥. She waved a Czech flag 🇨🇿.
”Jsem Zdenka! Jsem naživu a já jsem Češka! Jsem volný! Smrt imperialismu dogmu a falešné doktríny! Dlouho žít Pareczenethy!”
Leavenworth, Kansas, refugeebarracks. March9,1969
”Shirley Temple… Of all people. Who would have imagined. I am here because of Shirley Temple. Pareczenethy was right.”
Shroake Zdenka to the WAC who supervises her barracks.
”How is that?”
”She was ambassador. She organized a convoy to get refugees of 1968 to America. She cared when no-one else did. She was a child star.”
“Wilkimmon alles, auf der ersten Konferenz die Existenzielle Nihilisten Philosophie Europäischen. Mengen Genämman Yclept Fraä Professor Zdena Slegr Thompson ünd hierauf nächste mir ist Mengen beliebtes Tochter Fräulein Lara Slegr Thompson.“
Ich muss diese schöne Abend Grüße Mengen Geehrteren Freunde Häär Doktor Hermann Flügmeister von Anstädt, der jüngsten, Kinde das Häär Professor Doktor Hermann Flügmeister von Anstädt die Alten, Frä Professor Doktor Anna Pareczenethy Tochter des lieben 🥰 Professor Häär Doktor Doktor Pareczenethy und auch müsste Esche präsentieren unserer Güte Freund die gleiche berühmtesten Häär Doktor Professor Klaus vanEyck DeLaCroix und die geliebtes Schwester Frä Sliwa Tomislaw Nagy, Alles zusammen.
Dnes musíme nejprve zaplatit cti skutečnému hrdince existenčního nihilismu a obránce lidské svobody za naprosto irelevantní. Vážení pan profesor doktor doktor Pareczenethy. “Jistá lhostejnost je nejpravdivější forma lásky”!
Dateline: McKeesport, Lysle Boulevard. Monongahela Amphitheater. Studio of Mon Valley Pirate Underground Bootleg Radio Network.
Radio Announcer: “Hello Boppers! (Pronounced Bhah-Paahz) We have a big get-together in Renzie Park tonight! Writers from Eastern Ohio, Northern West Virginia and Western Pennsylvania will all be their for the big summit!”
”The Plug 🔌 Uglies! The Forty (Pronounced Phaugherty) Thieves! The Dead 💀 Rabbits 🐇!… sorry 😐 wrong movie…”
The Bellefield Bolean Nationality Classroom Workshoppiers Writer’s Workshop are at the huge McKeesport Writer’s Gang summit.
KGB, dressed in robes on huge platform above giant throng of local Writer’s groups, each Workshop dressed in their distinctive 1979 gang outfits. KGB raises hands in air dramatically.
“Can you dig it! CAN YOU DIG IT! Look at us, my brothers and sisters! The tri-state area has only 2,000 cops, but here are 5,000 writers! Soon we can control publishing in the entire area! There is more than enough for all of us! CAN YOU DIG IT!”
Shots ring out. The KGB falls on the platform in Hollywood dramatic slow-motion from seven different camera angles. The gangs of mediocre local Writers scatter. Critics gaggle out of the Park, slowly pontificating, and dangling modifiers.
“The Botendaddy did it, yeah, it was the sexy shitty old Botendaddy and the shitty Nationality Classrooms Writer’s Workshoppiers! It’s the shitty Workshoppiers! They shot the KGB!”
Shroake Cedar, the crazy, sexy, insane, psycho bad-guy shooter from the shitty stupid ignorant smelly Mt. Lebanon Twerp-Loser-Illiterates. (Hides gun hastily)
The Writer’s Workshoppiers run away, escaping through the crowd into a nearby cemetery. They are wearing gang leather muscle shirts with a blue alien logo and a quote from Emerson. Most are leaning on knees, panting.
“Botendaddy, man, what are we going to do? How can we make it back to Bellefield Avenue?”
Asked Revolutionary Blacquéz.
“Listen, now dig this, man, we can make it. We have to stick together. We may have to catch the bus…”
Shroake the Botendaddy
“I’m like totally afraid man, like what are we gonna do?”
Just then, out of nowhere are people carrying wiffle ball bats, dressed like a cross between Pirates and baseball players with racist gold-face and more dangling modifiers.
“So you guys are the Shittacious Bellefield Workshoppiers! We’re the White Oaks Script-Writers, ⛹️ you freaks killed the shitty KGB and there’s a big fat reward, man, and we’re gonna’ kick your ass and rake in the cash!”
Shroake their bizarre leader Willie Wackadoo.
”You guys stink like 💩 are you gonna’ help us or fight us! No-one cares about your jejeune local writing ✍️. Your prose is tortured and your syntax is derivative.
Shroake the No-one Cares Lady.
Huge brawl breaks out with the SB’s. Their bats 🦇 are seized by Big Chief Guyasuta and the Caribbean Queen. They proceed to beat the shit out of the SB’s and chase them away.
The Angry Online Social Justice Warrior Guy sees a lone man in full drag on a bench in the dark. The AOSJWG tries to molest him, but it turns out the drag queen 👸 is an undercover cop 👮♀️. He handcuffs the AOSJWG to the park bench and the cops swarm the cemetery. The gang head to North Versailles.
Radio Voice with visible lips 👄 and a microphone 🎙. “Stay Tuned, Boppers! It seems that due to modern tracking devices, the Workshoppiers have made it to North Versailles!”
The Workshoppiers make their way to Route 30, where they catch a ride from a gray bus 🚎 filled with musicians or it’s a gang dressed like musicians!
“We’re the Forest Hills Felchers! We know you sexy Workshoppiers didn’t kill the KGB, but if you want free passage to Frick Park, you gotta pay 💰 and you can’t wear your jackets 🧥!”
Shroake their leader, Felix Filimon, the Euphonium player.
“No Dice 🎲!”
Shroake the Librarian.
Huge brawl ensues on the bus 🚌. Bus is set on fire 🔥 and Warriors escape into Frick Park, as the Players watch their instruments 🎻 burn.
They walk through the park when they meet a group from the Environmental Center.
”We’re the Greenfield Green Weenies, you shitty Workshoppiers! And we need the 10g’s to Fund our Winter ❄️ Garden!
”Let’s not do this.”
Shroake the Professor 👩🏫, striking their leader Griselda Grinboim, with a dangling modified tree 🌳 limb. Mega brawl ensues. Weenies have the shit beaten out of them.
The Workshoppiers dramatically walk up to Forbes and Murray where they are met by the Squirrel 🐿 Hill Sirens, 🚨 the only All-female Writer’s Gang. The girls invite the Writer’s Workshop back to their lair on Murray Avenue.
”I am Rachel, do ya want this bodeee? Do ya want dis sexy bodee!!”
Shroake their feckless leader.
”Botendaddy sucks! He’s an anus! Let’s get the reward!”
Shroake Mimi, the second in command and rival literary critic.
The Sirens 🚨 almost seduce Devon when another brawl breaks out and the Workshoppiers, lead by the CEO 👩💼 monkey 🐒 stomp the girls and make their escape.
Radio voice and lips 👄 on microphone 🎙: “OK Boppers! A certain gang called the Workshoppiers have made it to Squirrel 🐿 Hill. Be safe Workshoppiers! Don’t listen to the Siren’s 🚨 Song.
The Workshoppiers catch the 61C bus 🚌. A pair of young couples of well-dressed real writers headed for the Writer’s Prom look at the dirty, talentless Workshoppiers. Botendaddy puts his arm around the Weird 😜 Foreign 🇳🇵 Doctor 👩⚕️ Chick 🐥 .
They end up at Flagstaff Hill. Then they hear: “Clink, clink, clink… Workshoppiers… 🎼 come out to play, Workshoppiers… 🎶 come out to play-ee-yay!”
It was shitty Cedar from shitty Mt. Lebanon!
”Are you guys packed?”
Shroake the Botendaddy.
Everyone shows their notebooks, 📓 pencils ✏️, Strunk & White, thesauruses and tablets.
Then on the Flagstaff Hill non-existent beach, 🏖 the two unrealistically campy gangs have their epic confrontation replete with bad theme music 🎵. Cedar vs. the Botendaddy.
”Why did you do it man? Why did you shoot the KGB?”
Asked the Botendaddy.
”Cause I’m a moron from Mt. Lebanon and I just like doing stuff like that!”
Bolean gang shows up and surrounds them all.
Botendaddy beats the living dog 🐕 shit 💩 out of Cedar. Boleans drag the Shrieking Cedar away.
He is confronted by the Bolean 2IC.
”We know you Workshoppiers ain’t do it. Va en paix, longue-carbine!”
Do you get it? – As in Angry Online Guy on Queddit trying to show everyone that you somehow don’t understand the gibberish he driveled, when in fact… You don’t agree with the DUMMY
Walk off – This is not a baseball expression. It probably originated with some DUMMY Red Sox fan, who being from Boston are the dumbest people in the universe. Everything is a walk-off. A walk-off homerun, a walk-off single. A walk off walk. A walk-off walk-off. SHUT UP, STUPID!
‘New’ – as in ‘I was in Operation Desert Storm’ the shoosting started and ‘it was new’ I know this goes back a long way, but I respect you as a fellow veteran, so I will put this gently: ‘SHUT UP, YOU PRETENTIOUS TWAT WITH YOUR WAR STORIES!’ a. There were women, children and elderly people in the war zone that had it way worse than any of us ever did. b. Sorry to bruise your ego, but even Iraq wasn’t the first time I had a gun pointed in my face, Ringo.
I’m listening to Alice’s Restaurant right now, by Arlo Guthrie. I love Arlo. If you don’t then, F*&^ OFF! And also to your opinion: YAWN
My daughter absconded with my 1st Cav Patch. All of my Cav stuff belongs to her. She stole all of my bullshit Army medals and ribbons too.
I USE CAPS BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE USING CAPS. This is you: Stop using caps, you big sexy brute! Me: YAWN